Weapon of the Cross
by theonlyliverpoolninja
Summary: Father Harry Potter. A child who has been given a holy sanction to do what he must. Beware Magical World. The Palidin Child is coming.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 1: Return from the Holy land

24th July 1991 12:00 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

The boy stood at the door of the typical suburban. Dressed in a small black suit with black shirt and shoes, black suitcase at his side with an airline pass around the handle, in his left hand a copy of the Catholic Herald and his right on the doorbell. The dark haired boy had paused as a gust of wind had blown a chill across his neck, as if god had looked down and was telling him personally that this plan was a bad idea, putting his paper on the suitcase he took the silver crucifix out from under his shirt and kissed it before replacing it beneath the dark cloth, finely he pressed the button and took a step back.

A woman with a long face answered the door, she was dressed in a flower print dress with a powder pink cardigan and neat shoes, ready and prepared for his arrival as she was you might have thought this was any normal amicable woman. The boy however remembered that this was the woman who had left a one year old child on the step of a Catholic church in the middle of winter. He drew himself up to his full (if still rather short) height and prepared to address the hoarse faced woman.

"Aunt Petunia" the boy stated in a neutral tone with a hint of an Italian accent, he picked up his suitcase and paper and took a step forward. "I thought it would be better if I was driven here rather than having you put yourselves out to get me". The child twitched his head backwards to indicate a large Volvo, in the drivers seat a smiling man dressed in a horrible brown jumper and dog collar, he waved before putting the car in gear and pulling away.

Petunia looked down her nose at the child before moving aside to let him into the house. He stood near the staircase and waited, she continued the disdainful stair until he looked directly into her eyes with those bright green eyes, they were just like her sisters but that face and hair were all from his father.

"You will sleep in the second bedroom for the time you're here" she said while looking into his eyes. "I've just finished cleaning it and replaced the lock, could you wait there until dinner so that I can explain this to my husband and son, they don't know you're coming or why so I'll need you there to help me tell them". She handed him a key set of keys and watched as he started to move to the staircase, as he walked away she talked after him. "Could you wear your normal attire so as to help explain?"

The child stopped turned and nodded to her before continuing to his room, she sighed before moving to start tidying the kitchen.

14:33 GMT

"MUUUUUM WHY'S THE DOOR TO MY OTHER ROOM LOCKED" Dudley screamed down the stairs. "IT'S NOT FAIR IT'S NOT LIKE I DID ANYTHING WRONG". The young boy had been sent to his friend's Piers house for the day so as not to be around when the other young boy arrived. He had just returned and rather than speaking to his mother he had run strait to the playroom and his beloved toys.

"Dudley stop screaming and calm down" she cooed up the stairs "I've had to put a guest in the play room, he's had a long flight and will be staying with us for a while, I threw out all those broken toys now get ready for dinner when your father gets home"

Dudley stormed into his own room and slammed the door and throwing a tantrum that would have anyone thinking that his favourite puppy had died. Petunia sighed, knowing that this would get worse once Vernon got home and demanded an explanation as to why his son was crying and there was person staying in the playroom, she just hoped he didn't accuse her of adultery again as the last time he had beaten her. She didn't hate her husband, but nor did she truly love him anymore, not after all the beatings over the years and the demeaning treatment. She often wondered that if she had have given away the child in the second bedroom would she have been spared the abuse from him.

17:42 GMT

Petunia was so desperately worried about how dinner would go she didn't hear Vernon come through the front door cursing Vicars and there ruddy Volvos. He stormed into the kitchen before throwing his briefcase onto the table with a huge bang causing his wife to jump a two foot into the air with a huge scream. The knife she had been cutting a tomato with slipped and cut across her knuckles on her left hand leaving blood and tomato pulp mixing on the chopping board. She nursed her hand and started looking for a cloth, all while the beefy man continued to rant and rave about his trip home from the company, in particular "That retard dogcollered twat in mangy old Volvo".

"What the bloody hell is this?"

Petunia knew that this question was directed to her so she turned to see Vernon indicating the table laid for four. She picked up a tea-towel from by the sink to use as a makeshift bandage.

"It's for an important person I think the family should meet. Especially as I want him here. He's only coming down for dinner but will be staying here with me for the next few days." She wrapped the fabric around her hand before continuing. "He'll be leaving before Dudley goes to Smeltings so every thing will be peaceful."

"Peaceful. Staying here every day with you." he spat the venom clear in his voice, "is he one of your shags hey, I spend all day working for this family and your fucking around and inviting them to dinner, TO STAY, with OUR SON in the house, is that right eh, EH, MARGE WAS RIGHT YOU REALY ARE GOOD FOR NOTHING LITTLE BINT."

Petunia slid to the floor under the torrent of insults. It was always like this these days he would explode over the smallest thing, then the accusations would follow, the threats next and finely violence. Blood seeped through the tea-towel and tears ran down her face. Vernon took her silence as conformation.

"You don't deserve to be Dudley's mother, if you don't get that bastard out of this house this instance I'll kill him." He grabbed her slashed hand and squeezed until she screamed again. He leered before whispering in her ear "And this will be just a taste of what you will get."

He dropped her hand before standing and turning to the table to see a child not his own sitting there dressed in some sort of costume. At first Vernon started to panic, had this boy seen him abusing his wife, was he one of Dudley's friends, would he tell his parents, why was the recognition so vague. Vernon moved towards the boy.

"Hello young man do I know you, you wouldn't happen to be one of Dudley's friends would y…" The questions died both in his throat and head as he saw the boys face. The dark black hair cut short, the facial features and small glasses were just like the boys farther, but the cool green eyes could only be from his sister-in-law. That scar on his forehead prominent as ever. The boy's eyes met his through the spectacles.

"Hello Uncle Vernon, nice to see you again. Will dinner be ready soon" Said the cold voice of the child with its slight Italian lilt.

At the table of No. 4, Privet Drive sat Harry James Potter. Dressed in his black suit with dog-collar and silver rosary hanging from his neck, he looked every inch the priest he was, Father Harry James Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 2: Tense Moments

24th July 1991 17:47 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

"What are you doing here?" Vernon wheezed staring into the eyes of the child sitting in front of him. "You shouldn't be here, we gave you away. How did you find us? Why?"

Harry sat calmly as he could and listened to his uncle bumble through his sentences. When the man stopped for a response harry stood, walked past the man and knelt by his aunt, who still sat cradling her bleeding and bruised hand. He slowly pulled the tea-towel off it and looked at the blood stained appendage. The damage didn't appear too bad but it would now need dressing, he looked towards his aunt's face, the pain had obviously been more than she was used to as her tear streaked face looked towards his imploringly.

"Where is your first aid kit?" the question was addressed to Vernon but the man was not going to be answering anything till he got answers of his own.

"I'm asking the questions brat" he growled and let a meaty hand drop onto the child's shoulder.

It was at this point that many years of ingrained training and before harry could analyse the situation Vernon was screaming on the floor with a dislocated shoulder. If harry hadn't have been a priest (and hadn't have been in worse situations than this by far) he would have started cursing outright. He knelt down next to the large man who was doing quite a good job of trying to be as small as possible.

"Now be quite and do as I tell you" he whispered into his ear.

"Step away from my dad" sobbed a voice from the doorway. Harry looked up to see his cousin at the door way holding what appeared to be an air-rifle with a bent barrel. Up until this point Dudley had been outside his playroom trying to break the lock to get the room back, that was until he heard a his mother scream from the kitchen, he would have ignored this if it hadn't have been for the thump of shoes heading for the door. The boy scurried for the safety of his own room, peering around the door he saw a child his own age locking the play room door and heading for the staircase, he didn't see his face but he was wearing some kind of priest costume.

Dudley started to snicker, what kind of retard dressed up as a priest, once the boy passed he returned to the door and tried to break the lock again. This time he was interrupted by the scream of his father, now this was a sound he was not used to. He knew it had to be the child doing it as his cow of a mother didn't have the guts to hit his father; she also didn't have the strength either. It didn't occur to Dudley that any ten year old that had the strength to take down a fully grown man would not be a good opponent to face. Diving back into his room he grabbed the air rifle with the bent barrel, his mother had thrown it away earlier that day when clearing the playroom, he had seen it in the bin and had fished it out and bent the barrel almost strait. He was sure that it looked real enough to scare the other child. Barrelling down the stairs he found his farther lying on the floor, his right arm facing the wrong way and his mother on the floor with a bleeding hand. Kneeling over his father was the child in black, stifling a cry he challenged the boy and raised the rifle.

Harry watched the fat child try to aim the bent gun at him before putting on a warm smile and answered him.

"Now-now dearest cousin it's my duty to tell you it's frowned on to shoot someone of the cloth. In fact I'm pretty sure that they send you somewhere for that."

"Don't give me that" Dudley forced his words through his gritted teeth. "You're a thief or something aren't you; well I'm not going to let you hurt my family" Dudley squared up, looked down the barrel, fired. The pellet instead of impacting in Harry's left eye as he intended hit the floor beside Harry's knee. The child priest raised an eyebrow.

"Would you be able to get me a first-aid kit so I can help your mother? After that why don't you finish the dinner so that we can all have a little talk afterwards?" said Harry in his most amicable tone. The other child panicked and dropped the rifle, the boy dove from the room and into the cupboard under the stairs, he returned in less than a minute carrying a small green box with 'First Aid' printed on the side. Taking the small box he walked towards his aunt and took her hand. Using antiseptic wipes he cleaned off the blood and using cotton wool and a bandage tied them over her slashed knuckles. While his aunt stood up to take care of the dinner and her appearance harry moved towards Vernon

"Now if I fix your arm do you promise that you'll wait till after dinner for an explanation?" The boy watched as the fat man nodded, taking a firm hold of the affected arm he wrenched it back into the socket, this generated another scream for the obese man, this caused Dudley to start crying, trying to fight back the tears he sat at the table. Vernon stood from his prone position on the floor faster than was probably advisable for a man of his incredible bulk. Glaring hatefully at the child in black, he sat at the round table Dudley on his left and the space for his wife on his right. Harry to his seat opposite his uncle and threaded his fingers together and started to hum a children's quire song. There was silence, except for the occasional rattle from the kitchen as his aunt finished putting the dinner on the plates.

Finely they were all sitting at the table, plates before them baring Lamb chops, potatoes, gravy and a range of other vegetables. The three Dursleys picked up there cutlery, ready to dive into the food, tat was until there was a cough from the end of the table. The Dursley family turned there eyes to the child priest.

"I would think that such a nice family would pray before starting on such a finely made dinner, would you care to listen while I lead." At this Vernon snorted and started to eat, Dudley followed his father's example, tucked strait in. Petunia however put her knife and fork down before clasping her hands and closing her eyes, smiling at this joined her, Vernon just growled at the pair of them. Harry

"**Dear lord, we thank you this day for returning me to my lost family, this delicious meal, the peace that remains in the world and the strength not to kill the man who beats my aunt. May you bless this table and all those who sit at it. So be it.**" With the prayer being finished harry picked up the his eating utensils and tucked in, carefully ignoring the hateful glares from the man massaging his shoulder, the furtive glances from the worried boy and the long looks of puzzlement from the beaten mother. Harry was not looking forward to the expected explanation he would have to give after the meal was over.

18:34 GMT

The Durleys sat together on the three-seater sofa in the front room while opposite them sat Father Harry, dressed in his clerical suit, perched on the edge of the armchair. He looked at them with a face that seemed to say that this would be long and hard. He sighed and spoke.

"How much do the three of you know about the 'Spark of God'?" He asked in a quiet voice. He took in there blank faces and was about to continue, that was before Dudley butted in.

"Spark of God, is this some weird priest silly stuff, is that why you're dressed as a fake one in your silly priest shirt." The boy looked smug at outing this other child as some kind of attention seeker. Harry sighed again and rubbed his eyes before rebuking his cousin.

"Two things, first this is not a 'silly priest shirt', it is called a Collarino. Second you may know the 'Spark of God' by another name such as Alchemy, Voodoo, ESP, Telepathy, Psychokinesis or." He paused before saying the last one, almost expecting the reaction he would get.

"Magic."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 3: Proof of Magic

24th July 1991 18:36 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

Harry watched his aunt and uncle with an increasing degree of interest and worry. Worry at the fact they were clearly angry for him mentioning magic in there house, also interest in the fact that two people could go such different colours at the same time, his uncle turning from normal to puce, also his aunt from normal to paper white.

Vernon was the first to respond as petunia moved to cover her son's ears.

"There's no such thing as magic." He hissed "And if you think I'm going to leave a freak here all day to scam me you've got another thing coming."

Harry didn't respond with words, he instead took off took of his jacket and rolled up the left sleeve of his Collarino to expose his forearm. Reaching to his belt he ejected a silver punch-dagger from the buckle. Petunia realizing what the boy was about to do dove off her seat to stop him. Too late as it turned out.

Harry swung the small dagger down and into his forearm a small dribble of crimson ran down the length his arm. He grimaced and started to draw the blade down the length of his arm, petunia covered her mouth and began to cry, Vernon gapped and Dudley stared in fascination. Blood was now pouring freely onto the carpet staining it a horrible brown red. Petunia panicked.

"DUDLEY, GO GET THE FIRST AID KIT AGAIN, HURRY!" She screamed and held Harry's arm trying to cover the wound. Harry merely shrugged her off and forced grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at the laceration, blood covering his entire forearm. Vernon just sat on the couch openmouthed. Dudley returned with the first aid kit for the second time that night, without giving him a chance harry snatched the box and threw it open, reaching inside he removed a bottle of saline eyewash. Without stopping he ripped the top off with his teeth and dumped the contents over the wound, washing away all the blood around it onto the floor, everyone almost stopped breathing at the sight.

The seven inch slash was knitting itself together, flesh sealing together like a zipper, blood still on the arm being drawn back into the wound.

When the process was finished there was no signs of the damage done except for the highly noticeable pool of blood on the carpet and the silver blade in his right hand. Slowly he wiped the blood off the small dagger on the stained carpet, and then he placed it back in his belt, rolled down his sleeve he put the jacket back on. He allowed himself a minute for his blood to regenerate to sufficient amount to stop him feeling lightheaded. When he was ready he looked back to his relatives.

"Perhaps I should start with something more immediate." He crossed his hands in his lap and lent back in the chair. "My name is Father Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, nephew to Vernon and Petunia Dursley, cousin to Dudley Dursley. Also godson to Frank and Alice Longbottom, Sirius Black and finely Andromeda Tonks. I am what this country calls a half-blood wizard, in my home country I would be called a monster, that was till I was saved by the church." Harry started to undo his Collarino while still talking.

"When my dearest aunt left me on the steps of the local Catholic Church, I was found by the parish priest Father Jeremy, he would be the one in the Volvo. Anyway, when I was found the next morning he could sense the 'Spark of God' in me, all priests when they are ordained gain the 'Spark' they can feel its presence in others. We term the spark given to priests, nuns, saints and paladins by god to be 'The Holy Spark of God'." By this point harry was sitting with all the buttons on his shirt undone but with it still closed over his naked chest

"This differs to the 'Spark' found in Wizards, Vampires, Ghosts and Werewolves. We call this 'The Spark of the Forsaken', in history those who have turned there backs on god have twisted there 'Spark', this creates bloodlines or infections that pass this 'Spark' around. Only the power of the greatest 'Holy Spark' can change a 'Forsaken Spark'. For that I had to be ordained and branded by His Holiness himself." Harry pulled back his shirt.

Up until this point the Dursleys thought that there was nothing more this supposed child priest could show them that would shock them.

They were wrong.

On the right side of Harry's chest was a tattooed symbol. A pair of crossed keys, one gold, the other silver, the Papal Tiara was positioned above them. Below this was the roman numerals XIII. However more puzzling was the scar in the center of his chest. It was the size of a small coin and seemed to have a reversed pictogram on it. Seeing there confused expressions Harry explained.

"After my Ordination the His Holiness heated 'The Ring of the Fisherman' in a brazier before branding me." Harry's voice sounded full of love and admiration, his face a vision of happiness. "It was my ninth birthday, not many may talk to His Holiness and nearly no one may touch him, but we talked and laughed. He even made a joke about how he wished his shoes could do what Dorothy's do. He officially assigned me to 'Section 13' with my mentors the next day, happiest day of my life, I was terrified he would assign me elsewhere's." He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "We had better finish this tomorrow, the blood loss has made me drowsy and I'm expecting a package with Father Jeremy from 'Section Four' around about breakfast, my body needs to finish replenishing its blood and I still have Jet-lag. And by the way don't worry about the carpet I can reimburse you tomorrow so no need to fret." He walked to the living room door before turning and intoning in Italian. "_Goodnight, may the lord bless you as you sleep tonight._" And left the room.

22:02 GMT

It had just passed ten o'clock and the two eldest Dursleys were still awake, Vernon on his second large Teachers whisky, petunia on her third glass of 1979 white wine. The pair of them sat in silence starring at the dried, caked bloodstain by the armchair. Vernon drained the dregs of the whisky and looked to his wife.

"What are we going to do about him then?" His voice was a mix of exasperation and worry. His wife gave a small smile before replying.

"After how you treated me this evening I think you owe me a little something." Vernon's ace showed confusion followed by realisation.

"Oh no you can't be serious, that monster child put my arm out, he terrified our son. Are you serious about letting him stay here?"

"Vernon!" the retort was sharp and caused the large man to flinch back. "That monster child is my blood nephew. You will treat him politely while he stays with us and nothing less. I have not asked for anything from you since we gave him away please do this for me."

Vernon stared into his empty glass and gave a small nod. They both got up to leave the room. Vernon made a closing remark.

"Don't ask me to join in on any of his god nonsense though."

Petunia smiled. "No darling, no I won't."

As they left the room Vernon realised that this was the first time in years she had called him Darling.

25th July 1991 7:24 GMT

Breakfast was progressing smoothly, there had been no violent outbursts as yet, everyone was eating calmly. Petunia had Bran Flakes as did Harry, Vernon and Dudley with a Full English Breakfast each, fat dribbled down there chin. The Wednesday edition of the Telegraph lay open in the centre of the table.

The warm silence was abruptly punctured by a ring of the doorbell. Harry checked his watch, it couldn't be for him, Father Jeremy wasn't expected till eight-thirty. He returned to his food as his aunt went to the door. There were a few moments of muted speech before his aunt called through.

"Harry there's four people here to see you." This perked the boys interest for a moment as he was only expecting one, but it certainty didn't prepare him for what she said next.

"The tall man at the front calls himself Father Anderson."

A/N

Thank you for the reviews so far, there will be more as I can get them out.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 4: The Men (and women) in Black

25th July 1991 7:27 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

Harry stood from the table and straitened his collar. He was silently contemplating who the other members of his mentors group were. As he walked into the room he saw the five faces turn to him, he recognised them all as members of 'Section Thirteen'.

On the three-seat couch sat Alexander Anderson, current Lead Paladin for the division, behind him stood his current three students. All had been ordained at the same time as harry and had spent many more years with Anderson then he had, on the left was the sixteen year old Father Enrico Maxwell, in the middle was Sister Yumiko Takagi aged fifteen, and on the right Sister Heinkel Wolfe, also aged sixteen. Petunia was standing by the television set trying not to get to close to the odd group of priests. When Anderson saw the child he stood with his arms wide. Harry grinned and ran towards him.

"Father Alexander it's so good to see you." Harry said as he leapt into the hug. "How long's it been? I haven't seen you since my ordination."

"Well Father Harry, that would make it almost two years." He gave a small smile. "But we can't stay long or 'HELLSING' will find out were here. That would blow your cover and expose one of our trump cards." While every Catholics face darkened at the mention of the Anglican organization Harry's lit up at the mention of him being a weapon of useful power. Put him in the right place and the opponent would shatter.

"We only have enough time to drop off your orders, our blood, clothes from 'Section Five, Mark', you're 'Intelligence Box' from 'Section Four, John'." He handed him a metal suitcase. "And finely." He intoned for the first time not in a warm friendly voice. "'Section Twelve, Luke, have finished 'Serenity'." Maxwell reached into his cassock and retrieved a long gunmetal-grey container baring the seal of the Vatican and passed it to Anderson. He then knelt down, all 6.8 of him, to look Harry strait in the eye. "May she punish all that deserve it without measure. Your new gloves are in there also." It was during this serious moment that Vernon walked into the room and proceeded to make a stupid comment.

"Oh for the love of god, not more of you wizard priest freaks." He didn't get a chance to say anything more as he was pinned to the wall by the huge man with the scared face. He had a some kind of silver sword with a strange handle in his hand and the tip was tickling the end of his nose. He looked into the eyes of the man that held him. Behind those small wire-framed glasses he saw a fury unlike any he had seen or herd of, fury tinted with insanity and fanaticism.

"Never take our lords name in vain!" He spat into the mans face. There was a click and Vernon felt something pressed into the left side of his head, he twisted his eyes to the see the older nun pressing a silver handgun into his temple.

"Or we respond with force!" She said in broken English, her Italian accent was thick and held more menace than the small piece of compact death in her hand. Then there was a poke in the area of his right kidney. He turned his eyes the other side to find the teenage priest there with a knife digging into his side.

"Which will most likely be brutal and." Maxwell's accent was lyrical and held no anger. However the man in front of him rearing back still did. Anderson finished the group statement with one word.

"LEATHAL!" The man slammed a bayonet into the wall on either side of the fat mans head. At this point Vernon, who had been up until now been holding a tenuous grip on reality, lost consciousness. Harry sighed.

"Thank you for not killing him, he is essential for my cover, though considering what he said I might have done it myself. So is there anything else because I estimate that we have another three minutes before the 'Hellsing' bastards get here to investigate." Anderson drew the bayonets out of the wall, letting the obese gentleman slip to the floor, turning he handed them to Harry.

"Three things, first make sure you get new clothes in both human and monster styles, second theses bayonets are for you, keep one on you at all times." Now Andersons face lit up in unrestrained bloodlust. He handed the boy a glass jar. "Third, we believe that the newest Hellsing has released the dark prince. We pulled that out of an ash pile in the 'Lost Land' two weeks ago."

Were Andersons face had lit up, Harry's fell and kept falling, this was so many kinds of bad.

All the time this was going on no one noticed the small face staring through the door-jam.

13:23 GMT High Street, Greater Whinging, Surry

Harry sat on a bench on the side of the street thinking dressed in a pair of black trousers with a white shirt. He had just been shopping with his aunt to buy less conspicuous clothes, he was turning the glass jar in his hand, twisting it in and out of his fingers. He couldn't help but stare at the small silver object in the bottom of it, it was one huge problem if it was what 'Section Thirteen' thought it was, a world changing problem in his hands. He didn't acknowledge his aunt as she sat down next to him with all the bags. She looked at the jar.

"So what is that then and whys it got you so worked up." Her genuine intrigue into anything about his life was appreciated by the child. She had known him properly as a person for just over a day and yet she seemed to be warming to him as a family member. He decided that telling her would help them bond more as well as reducing his own worry.

"This my dear aunt." He said opening the jar and holding up the silver object for her to see. "This is a bullet. Specifically a Hollow Point 454 Casull round, made of pure silver, this bullet is custom made and hasn't been seen for twenty-two years. It was pulled out of the remains of a dark being in Northern Ireland. That gray case I was given today contains a weapon based off the design of the one that fired this bullet. The man who owns that gun is one of the most dangerous creatures ever to rome the earth." He noticed a scared look on the woman's face. "Don't worry he doesn't know of my existence and has no reason to attack us."

"I don't care about that." She said in a panicked voice that started to draw attention. "You brought a gun into our house and I left Dudley there. You don't know what he's like, he'll probably try to get into your room, those two silver swords I can handle but a gun!" She grabbed his arm and ran towards the car as the child tried to keep pace with her.

13:15 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

Dudley had finely managed to unscrew the lock on his playroom door and opened it. Now he would get to see what his cousin and all those priests were hiding, then he would tell his father who would be so proud of him, then that freak would be gone from the house and things could return to normal. He started by looking at the changes in the room, there were none except for a small cross with a little man on stuck to the wall. Dudley giggled and turned it upside down, he thought it was funny to see the man dangle, then he started looking for the silver case that the tall man had handed over first.

He found it at the bottom of the bed, throwing it onto the mattress he undid it, the child was slightly disappointed at what he found. The case contained some files in different colours that contained words he didn't understand. There were more priest clothes, he threw them aside and dug deeper, he yielded better results with the next objects. They were three bottles of blood that had names on them, he'd tell dad about this. There was also a box containing lots of silver coins and some straw. He pocketed some of the coins, Harry couldn't know how many were there to begin with.

Then he found the gray box. With shaking hands he opened it, there was nothing but a pair of white gloves with writing on, until he moved them aside and cried with joy.

It was a gun, a long silver gun with writing on the side. He picked it up, it had to be a toy, even though it weighed quite a bit its handle was small enough to fit his hand.

'Must be some kind of air-gun' he thought to himself. The trigger was tight so it must already be full of air. He started to swing it left and right pretending to kill imaginary foes. Suddenly there was a boom of the door smashing into the wall as a person rocketed into the room. Dudley reacted.

He turned and pulled the trigger.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 5: Paperwork

25th July 1991 13:31 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

*CLICK*

Petunia screamed when the gun pointed at her made the noise. Images from television flashed through her mind. Bodies with horrific wounds, twisted and contorted in pain, each one with her face staring back at her. As she stumbled back in fear Dudley dropped the firearm truly terrified he had killed his mother. The gun settled at his feet like a silver sin, left in sight, yet untouched. Harry, using these facts as a distraction, bolted around his aunt and headed for his cousin. When he was close enough he span and lashed out with his shin, catching Dudley in the back of the knee the boy fell, still spinning he grabbed the handgun. Hands moving at blinding speed he ejected the clip, pulled the slide, engaged the safety and placed the long gun into the belt of around his trousers.

Sitting up Dudley started screaming to his mother about the freak boy and how the gun was his. Her response was to glare at the boy and tell him to get out. The fat child was out of the room in less than three seconds. Harry, instead of looking at his aunt, moved to the crucifix on the wall. He looked at it with a sad expression before righting it. He started to repack his silver case, he began to talk to his aunt, even though he refused to look at her.

"If your son was anyone else, I would have killed him, this is not intimidation or fanciful thinking. It's an unfortunate statement of fact. I have willingly sent many a man, woman and child to there ultimate judgement for much less. I can tolerate the desecration of my positions, but anyone who thinks it is funny to hang our saviour upside down like Saint Andrew, does not deserve 'Serenity'." At this harry stopped packing in order to pick up the clip from the floor. Without removing the weapon from his belt he slid the clip into place and continued packing. Petunia stared at the gun.

"Is that the 'Serenity' that the tall priest mentioned earlier." She asked. She grew worried as she saw the boy turn to her and draw the gun.

"Yes this is 'Serenity', a weapon of God, a restored and modified 'Colt M1900'." He held the gun up for his aunt to see. "'Section twelve' extended the barrel even further for even more accuracy, it's now 7.1/2 inches long but still fires a '.38 Caliber' bullet, has an attachable suppressor and a modified grip to accommodate my smaller hand. That's why we didn't go with a bigger caliber, that and the recoil would be too much for me to handle, so to compensate for low power they doubled the clip size. The bullets I use are …" He stopped as she held up a hand.

"I'm sure that this is fascinating to someone who understands it, however I am more concerned that you brought a gun into my house. If it had been loaded my son would have just shot me dead. How can you stand there and talk so calmly about such an evil thing. Are you not some kind of priest, isn't it a sin to take a life?" As she was talking she began to wring her hands.

"It may be a sin. But I will be punished for all eternity, those I save however, I would suffer a thousand hells for. You don't seem to understand that if I haven't given my life for our lord by the time I reach the end of my usefulness I must resolve it myself." Her look of incomprehension gave harry cause to sigh. He reached for the box of silver coins and straw only to pause. He had held this box many times and so knew the exact weight he turned to Petunia. "We will have to finish this conversation later as my dear cousin has some things of mine. They are far more important than he realises, I must stop him losing or selling them, I may have to teach him a lesson this time to make him leave my possessions alone." Before Petunia could find the strength to tell him to stop the boy had placed his gun in the gray case and left the room.

The woman stood there for a minute before her curiosity had got the better of her. She moved to the bed and picked up the stack of files. There was a thick black one which was the first to grab her attention, upon opening it however she found it to be written in Italian, as she knew nothing of the language she put it back and reached for another. This time she was rewarded with one written in English, though the red colour of the file made her wary, upon opening she gained an insight into the dangers of Harry's life.

//////////

WARNING: AVOID AT ALL COSTS, DO NOT APPROACH, DANGEROUS TO ALL VATICAN PERSONNEL.

Name: Colonel (BA) (SAS), Captain (RN) (RM) (SBS) Walter C. Dornez

Age: 61

Date Of Birth: 19/01/30

Appearance:

Notable aliases: The Joker, The Angel of Death, Thousand Cuts Dornez, Dicing Dornez, Quick-Fist Walter, Razor Wire, The Gentleman Bucher. The Butler.

Employers/Associates: Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, H-E-L-L-S-I-N-G, Royal Navy (RN), Royal Marines (RM), Special Boat Service (SBS), British Army (BA), Special Air Service (SAS), Special British Government, British Royal Family.

Abilities: High-Human Speed, High-Human Reflexes, High-Human Agility, Mid-Human Strength, 360 Degree Defence, Mid-Caliber Bullet-Defence, High-Grade Tactical Mind, Superior Knowledge of 'Sparked' Humans/Beings/Creatures, Black Belt Judo/Karate/, Superior Event-Planning, Superior Silver-Service Techniques, Highly Trained Sommelier, Precise Etiquette.

Weapons: 10 High-Velocity Microfilament Wires Attached Individually to Fingers.

Operational History: Operation Overlord./France.1944, Liberation of /France.1944, Operation Shadow /Poland.1944, BLACK BOOK OPERATIONS.1945-1974, Butler/H-E-L-L-S-I-N-G 'Trashman'.1974-Present.

Personal History: UNIVALIBLE - BISHOP LEVEL CLEARANCE NEEDED

//////////

As Petunia read this page she got more and more involved with what was on the page. So this was the kind of thing her nephew was part of, he was up against a man who had taken part in the world war when he was no more than fourteen, a terrifying feat if ever there was one. The picture at the top of the page showed a man in the golden years of his life, his hair still dark but his face weathered. The monocle in his left eye giving off a mischievous glint. As she put the file down to reach for another she saw the box harry had looked into before he left, it was wood with a hinged lid, on which had been burned the Vatican seal. She looked around cautiously to check that harry hadn't re-entered the room, finding no one, she opened the box.

Unlike her son petunia knew exactly what the silver coins and straw meant.

"Oh my god!" She breathed "The 'Section Thirteen' is Judas."

"You were warned about taking the lords name in vain, weren't you." Harry explained from the doorway. As Petunia span she saw him standing there holding the bayonets.

"And now I'll have to punish you." He said raising the blades.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 6: Gifted

25th July 1991 15:20 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

Petunia stood in the living-room looked at Harry's rather unique form of punishment. In the place of the television was a small white timer, its numbers counting down by the second, there was still '172317' seconds on it.

'172316', '172315', '172314', '172313'

She stood there watching the ever-changing display, this would not go down well with Vernon, every television in the house had been removed by Harry, the timer showed the time they would be returned. There was even a penalty system in place, the 'Child of Iscariot' had pinned a piece of paper to the wall, the list wasn't very long but it would be reforming.

//////////

VATICAN SANCTION 1 FOR DURSLEY RESIDENCE:

Acts of Verbal Abuse/Bullying will result in Two hours of Television loss for the whole family for every word.

Acts of Physical Abuse/Bullying will result in Twelve hours Television loss for the whole family for every action.

Disrespect of others property will result in Twenty-Four hours Television loss for the whole family.

Blasphemy will be met with appropriate sanctions.

SIGNED

Vatican Enforcer, Father Harry James Potter, 'Section XIII'

//////////

'Vernon is not going to be pleased with this' she thought.

19:02 GMT

Petunia had been right, between the two whales of the household they had racked a week up on the timer, however Harry had been generous and let it slide. After all they would have to acclimatize to this new way of living. So as the day ran on into dinner there arguments petered out. The rest of the family had no idea were harry had put the four televisions from the house, all they knew was that they weren't in his room or anywhere else, but the child assured them that they were safe from destruction. Currently they were sitting in the front room, all in the same seats as the night before, harry with the huge silver suitcase on his lap. He was the first to speak.

"I feel that I should share the nature of my positions, if not I feel that you would continue to intrude until you had ascertained what they are, so I will show you now and I expect you to leave them alone after that." With that he opened the case and proceeded to empty the objects onto it.

First was the stack of files, one in black, a few blue and red and many in green. Next was a Cassock, followed by a rosewood box, three crystal jars of blood about the size of a closed fist, the twin bayonets, the gray gun-case, a satchel radio and a pair of gloves with writing on. He looked to his relatives.

"If you have any questions about these, ask them now."

"Tell us about these" Petunia said picked up the files and holding them out to him.

Taking them harry put them in there colored piles and began. "The black is my mission briefing, it contains all the necessary information, except for in-depth information on people and places. Green are my targets, some for information, some intimidation and finally some for termination." He put them to the side and moved to the blue. "These are my points of interest. All the information gathered by the Vatican by there 'Grand Inquisitors' was passed onto the archives and stored, we've gone back over these for as much information as we can, but we don't expect it to be relevant because of the age. The central office also supplied me with a list of contacts to use, they are also in here, they shall be my suppliers when the Vatican can't be seen to." Harry picked up the red files. "These are high-level dangers to me, most are members of an organization like my own, the difference is that they are happy to let this taint continue so long as it doesn't go public. These people will know what I am on sight. And even if they didn't they would work it out pretty fast, they have the resources to make a person disappear in everyway, physical, technical, records, photos even friends and family think you've just left for a while." He put the files down. From his pocket he drew the silver bullet, placing it on the table he stood up, and started to pack the files into the suitcase as well as the clothing. Dudley picked up the radio and started to twist the knobs.

"What's this thing do, it looks like some kind of radio." Harry gently lifted it from the boys hands.

"That's because it is Dudley, if these people decided to bug the whole street then it would be my only method of communication with the Vatican, we have a listening station on a boat in the 'English Channel'." He grinned. "Its run Farther Carlos, he was the first priest in the Vatican to be dropped from every 'Section' due to clumsiness, but give him a piece of hardware and he's a genius. Sank the boat once though." With this he packed away the radio. Vernon picked up one of the bottles of blood.

"Why do you have these, you're not one of those Vampires you talked about last night, because if you are-"

"Uncle Vernon" Harry said quickly, cutting his uncle off mid flow. "If I was a Vampire the Vatican would have slow roasted me while dripping molten silver down my throat." Vernon blanched at the statement while harry continued. "No, the blood is for the mimicry of gifts." At there looks of incomprehension he realized he hadn't explained gifts. Sitting down he took a bottle off the table. "A gift is given to some people with the spark. They seem to follow whether your spark is that of 'God' or 'Taint', there are ones such as regeneration, the laying on of hands, superior memory and the reading of minds. These are all examples of 'Gods Gifts', I also have one, mine is the mimicry of gifts. I take some of the blood of the gifted person and rub it into my 'Holy Scar' I can copy there gift as well as the original. It will also not change unless someone else's blood comes into contact with it. I'm currently copying Farther Alexander's regeneration gift, but if I rub one of these on it it'll change, it only needs to be two or three drops though. However I am also able to mimic 'Tainted Gifts' such as the burning touch, the controlling of minds, shadow manipulation, the soul capture and the changing of form. My 'Tainted Scar' seems to let me talk to snakes as well. We believe this to be the 'Gift' of the one who originally gave me this scar, it was one of his most famous traits so it more than likely." Harry packed the blood into the suitcase along with the rest of the objects on the table. "I belive that is enough information for tonight, I will tell you more tomorrow goodnight aunt, uncle and cousin '**May the Lord bless you while you sleep**'." With that he turned and left the room.

26th July 1991 7:22 GMT

Harry was staring at page 14 of the Telegraph in disbelief.

//////////

CATHOLIC PREIST CAUGHT CHEATING PARISHONERS

Catholic Priest, Father Jeremy Stevenson of Little Whinging, was arrested by police yesterday on allegations of stealing money from ageing members of the community. Police arrested him in his home at 5:30 in the afternoon when members of the public had visited the local police station with complaints. So far no one from the local police, the community or Catholic Church have commented.

//////////

Harry looked again at the small picture, more specifically at the badges that were on there riot uniform, its colors taunting him from the page. The shield with the quartered field, red and black, warrior and grief. His first contact had been taken by that enemy of the church, those damn protestant knights, those protectors of the peddlers of false religion.

H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 7: The Opposition

26th July 1991 9:05 GMT Hellsing Manor, Bedfordshire

Father Jeremy sat on the concrete floor of the small room next to his bunk, still in the clothes he had fallen asleep in from the day before, hands bound in handcuffs. He had been searched before being thrown in here, they had taken 'Subtlety', his only weapon as an infiltration member of 'Section Thirteen'. The little 'Derringer' had been strapped to a spring loaded ejector on his left arm. That wasn't to say that he didn't have a few tricks left up his sleeve. And even if he couldn't escape he would make sure that they wouldn't get any of the secrets that inhabited his brain.

That's when he heard it.

The click of her shoes on the concrete, swish of her hair on her jacket, the creak of her leather gloves, all these sounds reached the priest in the cell. Father Jeremy knew exactly who it would be, after being captured by 'H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G.' the first visitor would be there leader, the cold child, the bitch princess, the iron child. There were many names for her from the things of the dark, some to invoke there fear, others as insults. None however had escaped her attention, this child with her black-ops military, her unholy church and blasphemous queen. The fourteen year old who could change the face of England with enough votes in her favour.

Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing.

Father Jeremy watched the door open from his position on the cell floor. He saw the glint of her glasses, the hand-cuffs on his wrists started to creak as he tried to pull them apart but they refused to move. The teen at the doorway gave a small grin and clicked her fingers. As she did so a man in a shirt, waistcoat, and monocle appeared behind her carrying two chairs. The first he sat down next to the servant of the lord, the next by the open door, his next move was to sit the priest on the first chair before standing behind the second. At this Integral moved past him and sat in front of the priest. Her 'H. Huntsman & Sons' suit hugged her teenage body, its weave and shoulder pads hiding the muscles she had been building for the last two years. Its brown worsted fabric contrasting with her pale blond hair. She looked at him over her glasses.

"I'm sorry if I haven't been to see you, but with all the problems inherent with detaining you I've been very busy. Now lets have a little chat, how are you finding the accommodation, we have a turning down service if you're interested." A smile started to break-out on her face. This was her first time meeting a member of the Vatican, it was surprising to her that they hadn't found him sooner, his psyco-energy core must have been shrouded in some way. There were people within her organization that could sense it and track it down. However it seemed that they had missed this priest. They had no trouble finding children, there were tens of them every year, that was until they disappeared to that school in Scotland. What was its name again? ... Hobarts … Hogingsons, no it was more ridiculous than that. These seemed to take up the wizarding children of the 'British Isles', she found that her father had tried to perform experiments on a few of them, as such they avoided anything to do with the whole family and the organization. She knew that one of the members of 'The Convention of Twelve' was one and was there representative.

Father Jeremy was happy to see that this child at least had manners, a pity that she was the head of an organization pitted directly against the church. His voice was cheerful when he responded, despite the conditions that surrounded him.

"The conditions may be dreadful, but that's not nearly as bad as the fact there's no tea, how can you call yourselves English without good tea." He mealy sat and watched as the smile made its full appearance.

"Well, as fun as this banter is I have more important information to collect. Where is 'Section Thirteen's' new operative." She said with a chirp in her voice. Her smile looked as genuine as a shark trying to make friends by this point. She threaded her gloved fingers together and crossed her legs. Father Jeremy gave a smirk.

"And what makes you think that I will tell you ungodly dogs any thing. You may think that you have power 'Sir' Integral, but there are people in our church with more power in a single hand then you're country's whole military." At this Integral's face hardened, she was not used to being defied in her own home. Disrespected because of her age, feared for her position, even coddled because of her gender, all these she expected. Defiance was new however, this meant that he knew she had the power but didn't care. This couldn't be tolerated. She spat two words.

"Discipline him."

Walters hands flashed forward and whipped the wires attached to his gloves at the man on the chair, he wasn't expecting him however to move as fast as he did, ducking his head down and raising his hands the wires went through the metal of the handcuffs as fast as it did the air. However despite minor set back he managed to wrap a pair around his wrists, with another wire restraining the mans head he moved a final one into position, the wires were square in shape and as such had four sharp edges. Using the wire he shaved a half-inch wide strip of flesh off the man's face from the earlobe to the tip of the chin. It took approximately ten seconds so that the wound burned with pain even as it was cut. Father Jeremy bit his lip with the pain as a way to avoid gritting his teeth.

With Walter acting as puppeteer the Man of God was sat back on his chair. Arms behind his back, blood running in sheets down his cheek. Integral gave another of her shark grins.

"If that's your best escape attempt you'll have to do much better. Walter here was the best who trained the rest, your speed will never match his wires so feel free to try to escape again." Integral's smile started to falter as one started to grow on Father Jeremy's.

"What's so funny, do you think that the fact you're going to slowly be bled of every secret is humorous, I'd like to see you try to keep it as my 'Head Trashman' sets to work on y-"

"If that's what you thinks going to happen you need to know something." His eyes bored into Integral's. His grin glinted as he spoke his next sentence.

"I'm 'Gifted' you stupid child."

At this his body started to fade, he and his clothes became transparent, the wires holding him falling away. Walter tried to maintain his grip with the wires, but it was useless, his wires seemed unable to grip the translucent man. Integral panicked and reached into her jacket to retrieve her P.88, however she had waited to long and the man had vanished. Walter lashed out blindly with his wires scoring marks on the wall, but it was no use, Father Jeremy was gone.

Integral reached back into her jacket and pulled a hand held radio. Turning it on she gave her orders.

"The target has escaped, seek and interrogate, I don't care if you drain him dry I want to know everything."

The reply was brief and cold, the voice like a dying sigh, it seemed to give a chill even through the tiny speaker grill.

"As you command my Mistress."

26th July 1991 9:14 GMT Hellsing Wood, Bedfordshire

The wood was full of the early morning cries associated with wildlife. Birds sang, bees hummed, seven monochrome-feathered birds sat together on a branch. Nothing disturbed this peaceful nature in action.

*THUMP*

That was until a bleeding man fell from the space between trees. A bleeding priest to be more specific. He lay face down on the ground as a bee tried to investigate his hair. The rise and fall of his back as the only indication he was breathing, that was till the small groan, suddenly he rolled over crushing the bee beneath his head. 'This is bad' was his first assessment of the situation, he was still to close to the house, he had no idea were in the wood he was and they would be chasing him with dogs. He would also be unable to use the 'Gift of Translocation' until his 'Spark' charged back to full. The problem with Translocation was that it took vast amounts of the spark to achieve, his other problem was a very smaller spark, both made for an excellent infiltration operative. However escape was best in an urbanised area were you could blend quickly into the crowd.

The man got to his feet slowly while removing the remains of the bee from his hair and taking stock of his wounds. One skinned cheek, wire burns and bumps and bruises from the fall. Taking a tissue from his pocket to press on his cheek he noticed something.

The birds had stopped singing.

The bees had gone.

The sun disappeared behind a cloud.

All that was left was the seven magpies watching him.

Then the wolf came.

Its huge black furred bulk stalked a circle around him. Weaving in and out of the trees came closer and closer. Its red eyes not leaving him, but never stumbling or faltering, just slowly getting closer. It disappeared behind a oak. The pad of paws disappeared to be replaced by the crunch of boots on twigs and leaves. Father Jeremy slid into a basic fighting stance as the man appeared.

The coat was dark red, as was the fedora with the extended brim. He also wore a cravat in the same colour, a black 'Davies & Son' suit and black 'Lobbs' field boots. A pair of sunglasses with orange tinted lenses served to hide the glowing red eyes that seemed to lance the priest to the spot. In his white gloved hand he held a sixteen inch long pistol, the infamous 'Joshua', wielded by only one man. Father Jeremy's guard fell away as he challenged the monster.

"So they sent there pet vampire after me, oh how low you have fallen from what you once were. 'Alucard', 'The Dark Prince', 'The Eternal Nightmare', 'The Fallen Knight', 'Vlad the Impaler', 'The Dragon', 'The Count', 'Prince of Wallachia'."

At every name the vampires grin got wider, his distended canines becoming more pronounced. Especialy at father Jeremy's final words

"You are 'Vlad III Dracula'. Or to populer culture, 'Count Dracula'.

A/N

Hello all just a note to say that if you leave a review I have a much better chance of improving this story, as every thing you contribute helps, I would also like to point out that if you add this to your favorite stories list more people will see it and we can spread the word of Father Harry.

Thank you all and until next time.

Fare thee well.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 8: Blood Tells All

26th July 1991 10:23 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

Father Harry sat on a plastic garden chair next to the barbeque. He was on the patio next to the door that led to the back garden, in his left hand held a file and in his right a pen. He was signing slowly and ripping out certain pages and putting them aside. When he had finished he took what remained of the file and placed it on the red barbeque. Folding the pages he had removed he placed them in the trouser pocket of the black suit he was wearing, some would consider it odd to see a child in a suit but he had decided that as it was now impractical to wear his cassock or collarino he would wear the closest thing. His black suit, shirt and tie would likely stand out in a crowd on such a young child, but less so than a child who appeared to be playing dress-up. Reaching into one of the pockets on his jacket he retrieved a box of cooking matches, opening it he removed three and struck them together, as they flared he put them to the edge of the file. Throwing the matches onto the file as it started to burn, he stood watching it. He reached into the same pocket that he had taken the matches from and pulled out a photograph, it showed a younger Father Jeremy holding a wooden crate. In it slept a small black haired child, the only photograph he had of the time before the orphanage in Italy. Harry ran his thumb over the face of the man.

"What are you burning."

The words surprised harry as he hadn't heard whoever it was approach, which was unusual as he was always so careful. In his shock he dropped the photograph on the file. The fire started to lap at the edges of the picture. Spinning round he saw Dudley standing behind the glass of the sliding door, he piggy face trying to see round him. Turning back to the grill he watched as the face of the man who had found him and sent him to the one place he would always call home, blacken, twist and finally burn.

'How apt.' he thought. 'As by now he too will be gone.'

9:19 GMT Hellsing Wood, Bedfordshire

Father Jeremy stood facing the 'King of Vampires', the panic he felt refused to subside. This abomination could drain him of his blood an know every piece of information pertaining to the Vatican and their mission in England. However if he was dead the information would go with him. He started to unbutton his cassock.

"So Count." He said reaching inside his cassock and under his right arm. "I take your master want the information rattling around inside this skull of mine. Well tell her to ask nicely and bring tea, then we might discuss it."

The vampires face turned to a scowl at the impertinence for this priest to insult his master.

"How about I take your blood and hold your soul tormented for an eternity." Alucard ground out. His voice was deep and had an edge to it like gravel or glass being ground. It was sharp and dull at the same time, sick and bloody. The voice of a being so dark that it didn't have to roar in the night to terrify, just whisper in your ear about how nice a day it was.

Father Jeremy did the one thing he could to stop the vampire taking the information in his head.

He pulled the wire.

10:24 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

"What I'm burning Dudley, is my contact folder for Father Jeremy." He continued to watch as the photo burned. "I have to destroy all information of pertaining to him. Photographs, files and possessions. Then I send these papers" he held up the pages he had torn out of the file, "to the 'Section Thirteen' chief to be filed." Harry turned from Dudley, in doing so he missed the contemplative look on his face.

"Wasn't he the one in the paper, the one that stole all the money." A grin started to spread itself across his face. "So he's a crook. Are you one as well." The grin faltered as Harry turned to glare at him.

"No I'm not a crook and neither was he. He was framed by your government in order that they may kidnap, interrogate and then kill him. The information that he holds is dangerous, he has infiltrated many different regimes, he has been on so many black book missions he's a living legend amongst 'Section Thirteen' personnel. He received personal orders from 'His Holiness'. And you have the nerve to stand there and insult his memory." He moved to walk past Dudley. The chubby boy moved aside but threw him one last question.

"Why do you make it sound like he's dead."

Harry turned and looked at the boy. His eyes seemed to give the answer even before his mouth did.

"Because he is."

10:24 GMT Hellsing Manor, Bedfordshire

Integra stood in the Manor's morgue, in front of her lay the body of Father Jeremy, a large bruise lay all around his throat and his chest. A pool of blood was leaking from the incision that Walter had made in the neck of the priest. In his latex gloved hand was a piece of wire. Twirling it through his fingers he explained its purpose to her.

"The wire is like mine, however it is a surgical version designed not to be absorbed or rejected. It was tied around the carotid artery in a noose design. The wire was then threaded down to his right armpit, it seems that a small ball bearing was on the end and just under the skin, when he couldn't escape he grabbed the ball under the surface of the skin and pulled." He stopped to lift the corpses arm and indicated a torn patch of flesh. "Theirs the where it would have been. It seems as he pulled it was meant to stop the flow of blood, however it seems he wanted to die faster and pulled so hard he severed the artery. That's why the there's this bruise. Its where all the blood pumped out."

Integra turned from the table and left the cold and clinical room. Her stride unwavering she headed to the front grounds were Alucard was pumping round after round out of 'Joshua'. He was using the standard '454. Casull' round instead of the modified 'H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G.' version. He was dressed in only his black restriction suit rather than his full red hat and coat ensemble. Standing next to him was two of the organisations bodyguards, they were franticly trying to reload to vampires dropped clips. The monster was blazing through clips faster than the poor men could keep up with. There was a ping as another target clicked into place. Three seconds later there was another ping, this time it was an empty clip hitting the table. Integra decided to step in before the organization ran out of bullets, targets and guards. Walking up to him she placed a hand on his arm and pushed it away from the target.

"Why didn't you drink his blood Alucard, he was a fountain of information and you let him bleed to death." Alucard turned away from her as if hesitant to answer. Her constant presence finally broke his silence.

"When a Vampire drinks the blood of a person It has different affects on him depending on there status of health and current feelings. A virgin's blood is rich and filling, an impure's however is greasy and will tide us over, animals is like a chemical dump but useful in emergencies. When a person is murdered the blood sparkles and tingles, that is why we like to slaughter and kill. Natural causes makes the blood taste mellow, sort of old and woody." His face set into a scowl. "Suicides though, turn the blood to poison any information withers almost instantly. To try and get anything from the priest would have left me out of action for days. It just infuriates me that he had such a trick ready."

"But the bible says that suicides go to hell so we have to take some comfort in that." Mused Integra. Alucard looked at the girl with scorn evident on his face.

"A Priest of 'Section Thirteen' would gladly walk the road of good of intentions if it suited the needs of his church. A 'Section Thirteen' operative is more dangerous than most of the monsters we fight daily. They recruit young and train well, they have a dispensation from there pope that grants them permission to do what is necessary. They will quite happily die for there cause." His dull red eyes met her sparkling blue. "Be warned my master, these people have an operative in the country. He is more dangerous than a thousand ghouls, a hundred untrained vampires even more than Walter is."

"How can you be so sure Alucard." Came Walters voice from behind them.

"Simple." Alucard replied turning to the man. "If this spy was so good he could live here undetected for several years, how good must the man he was sacrificed for be. And even worse, how important is his mission." Silence flowed over the group, heavy and thick, each lost in there own thoughts.

*CLICK*

Alucard and Walter turned to see Integra pulling the slide on her 'P88'. Stamping on the button by the table leg a new target popped into position. Letting loose with the entire fifteen round clip she peppered the human targets chest. Turning back to her subordinates she ejected the clip and set her face into the grim visage of leadership that she would be famous as she grew.

"Well if we don't know who this operative is we had better been on high alert until we do. As such I want drills every day until we are sure." Turning back to the targets she slid another clip into the handgun and continued.

Alucard grinned and turned back to Walter, the gleaming white of his canines unnerving the two exhausted bodyguards.

"Walter, I think its time we brought 'Moses' out of mothballs."

11:05 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

Harry sat at the table in the kitchen, his mood sullen as he sorted through the days forgotten mail. As he moved to the rubbish bin to throw them away something in the pile caught his eye. It was yellow and thicker than the promotional information leaflets and the finished paper. Sliding it out Harry realised that the time had come to radio home.

The yellow parchment.

The emerald writing.

The red wax seal.

It dropped from his fingers as though it had burned him. He tried not to be sick at the very thought of it. Reaching down he picked it up again.

The dreaded 'Hogwarts' letter.

A/N

Hi everyone, thanks for notes that you've left. I would like to ask for a few more though. And thanks to anyone who has or will put this on favorite story lists.

Thank you all and until next time.

Fare thee well.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 9:

26th July 1991 17:00 GMT The Play Park, Drive End, Little Whinging, Surry

At the end of Privet Drive there is an area known as Drive End, it is a circular meeting of five drives and a connection to the main road. At the centre was a play park constructed for the children of the five roads. On the edge of the road around the play park sat a trio of cars, all of them black with tinted windows. The first and the last car were both BMW's staffed by two large gentlemen in dark sunglasses and ill-fitting suits. Between these two sleek cars was the massive form of a classic 'Roles Royce', in the front seat was Walter gloved hands gripping the steering wheel, situated in the rear was Sir Hellsing and Alucard.

The teenager was reading the report of the team of H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. operatives that had followed the car from 'Gatwick Airport', the team was always stationed there to follow anyone that the airport security chief could be a disguised creature. Catholic priests were identified on arrival however and were always tailed as a precautionary measure, there was no way that they were going to let an unsupervised group of possible covert-agents walk around unsupervised. The thought of one getting in was terrible, but now there was evidence of the one of the top Vatican infiltration-agents not only entering the country but preaching as well, it was a terrible screw-up. What was confusing was that he had been working in an area with no strategic advantage to either normal or paranormal societies. There were no groups of vampires, werewolves or 'paranormally-enhanced' human colonies. There were also no major military or governmental facilities in the area either. This meant that he was there to pass messages for someone more important to whatever mission it was he was on. This was going to cause far more problems when the Vatican found out and requested the body. A small grin split her face for a moment as she remembered her last orders to the morgue attendant, to dress the corpse in an Anglican double-breasted cassock with the cross instead of the single-breasted cassock and crucifix. This petty taunting could lead to the supposed secret operative revealing his hiding place, if not then they would have snubbed the Vatican which was always worth it.

Alucard merely sat next to her looking out of the window his eyes scanning the horizon, his hand gripping 'Moses', a modified 'Thompson machine gun' that had been sitting in a crate in mansion for the last thirty years. It had been locked away until Alucard had been revived to wield it. The weapon had got its unusual name from the fact it was made to part the sea of the un-dead, in reference to the biblical Moses's parting of the Red-sea. It was also the reason for his new handguns name, Joshua had been the first son of Moses.

Staring out of the window he could see the playground with one lone child sitting on base of the slide. He wore a black track-suit with white t-shirt, on his feet a pair of cheap white trainers. His face is what attracted the vampire's attention, it was tanned, while this was not unusual for a child at the end of the holidays it was a more natural. As if he had spent years in a sunny climate instead of a few weeks. The glasses seemed to wrap very close to the face, as if they were designed so as no to fall off under strenuous situations. Then there were the eyes, the eyes that had been boring into the tinted window from the moment the small cavalcade had turned into the road. Slowly he reached across to his master and gripped her leg.

"You had better remove that hand Alucard before I make you walk home in the sunshine, with no hat or sunglasses." The teenage girl ground out, her eyes never leaving the page.

"Mistress though the thought you are entertaining seems to speak volumes about your thoughts for me, I would like to point out the unusual child that has been observing the car." Alucard nodded towards the small boy.

Leaning across the ancient one, Integra looked though the glass at the boy in the playground. He seemed to be just a regular child, he was younger than her by two or three years by the look of him, it was obvious he hadn't gone through puberty yet but he was quite tall and muscular for his age. This was not unusual for a healthy boy who enjoyed his sports. The piercing look was unusual for someone that young and started her thinking. Placing her hand on the on the crank next to Alucard she wound down the window and looked back at the boy there eyes met for a brief moment before she turned away.

"Alucard your getting jumpy in you old age." The teen grinned to herself at the slight against the vampires age. she leaned forward so that she was level with Walter.

"What do you think is he any threat?" she maintained her position as Walter turned and looked at the boy. He turned back to his employer with a expression of surprise. His response had a hint of amusement.

"Yes Sir Integra, because this boy gets to see two high class BMW's and an expensive Roles-Royce pull into his neighbourhood. Its like waiting for a celebrity, I did the same a few times in the capitol in my youth." His face was slowly splitting into a grin.

"Just drive on will you, there's nothing left here." Integra slammed herself back into her seat and put the papers from the file in front of her face. So as she did not have to look at that insufferable grin on the old mans face. She looked to her side to find Alucard staring out of the open window at the child. His eyes never left him until the car pulled away, BMW's hurriedly starting there engines to keep up.

//////////

Harry matched the vampires stare as the car left. He hadn't recognised the cavalcade at first until he saw the H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. parking permit in the bottom left-hand side of the window. What was the point in covert vehicles if you were going to give the game away by being to cheep to pay for parking?

Unitil the cars had arrived harry had been running around the park, his aim being to keep himself in shape. Runnig the conversation he had had over the radio with radio pickup in the English Channel.

11:17 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

Harry pulled the radio out of the case under his bed and put it on the floor. Next step was to open the window and screw a bracket to the outside windowsill, to this he attached an extendable aerial and fed the wire back to the radio, plugging the base into the mains he turned the radio on and tuned it. The signal would be sent to church nearby and relayed from there to France were a temporary base had been set up. In case any one stumbled on the signal the entire conversation would treated like a child's game, no codes to keep it fluid but no real names so as to hide any information. Unclipping the mike he depressed the button.

"Hey Mike are you there, it's me James. You'll never guess what, but I got a letter today from the school I want to go to. I've all ready got all my stuff packed. It's going to be so much fun but I need to go shopping for a uniform. They also say I need chemistry equipment, a big bowl and a telescope. Shame I cant go to the same school as you, it says there going to send someone to see my parents about it all. Maybe you can come shopping with me when we go? What do you think?" Harry waited, it would take approximately fifteen seconds for the signal to be received so they would be listening to it at the moment. Next they'd have to formulate a response so he would be waiting for at least a minute for a response. While he was waiting he pulled the silver case towards himself to remove his weapons. He twitched his head back to the machine when he heard the speaker crackle.

"Hi James, my mum and dad say I can't come shopping, I hope your pocket money covers it. Hay why don't you just send me a copy of the letter, eh. It'll be so much easier. Anyway speak to you later." The radio fell silent, harry picked it up and started to pack it away. In his mind he turned over the meaning of the message he had received.

They were unable to provide backup when he needed to go to collect his school supplies. He had to pay with the money in his current mission fund. Finely they wanted him to leave a copy of the letter in his dead drop spike at the church where the radio transmitter was.

When he had finished packing the radio into its case he once again pulled his weapons close and started to clean them. Harry wondered to himself if he should keep up the same exercise regime that he had applied back home.

26th July 1991 17:23 GMT The Play Park, Drive End, Little Whinging, Surry

Harry finished running the mornings events over again in his head and started to make his way back towards number 4.

"Hay four-eyes who are you and what're you doin here." Harry turned at the voice to see four hefty children walking towards him. The tallest in the middle swaggered towards him, his bold manner marking him as the leader, that and no one had had the guts to tell him that swaggering looked ridiculous. The boy continued to get closer until he stood inches away from him his white polo shirt and black trousers showing off the muscles he had acquired during sport.

"You don't live around here do you, that means you're not allowed to do anything unless we tell you your allowed. I'm Piers and what I say here goes" Harry looked at the group. He failed to recognise the other two boys at the front, hiding at the back of the group, twisting his hands in his pockets, was Dudley. The boy seemed reluctant to start a confrontation with him, most likely as he had seen how strong he was when dealing with Vernon. Turning back to the lead boy he decided to relive his cousin worries.

"Fine I'll go." He said. Turning he made to leave. He was stopped by a hand grasping his wrist. It seemed the boy on the right of Piers had grabbed his arm in an effort to stop him leaving. The head bully spoke up again.

"Your not going anywhere until you give us everything you've got in you pockets." A meaty grin wormed its way onto his face as he spoke and one of his hands clenched, the other extended towards Harry to receive what ever the scared child would give him. Harry looked at the bully nose and started to move.

Dudley closed his eyes and waited for the sound.

//////////

A/N

Hey guys thanks for reading and I'm sorry I don't get these things out more often but a lad has to work. So chapters will try to be more frequent and will get longer once he heads for the alley. Until then please put this story on Favourite Stories so that more people will enjoy the adventure of Father Potter. Reviews also help and have given me many good ideas so keep them coming.

Until Next time.

Fare thee well.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

////////// - P.O.V. change

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 10: Here Come The Monsters

21:10 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

Harry sat in the armchair rubbing the bloodstain on the carpet with his foot. Trying not to look at his aunt who was opposite him on the settee watching him, nursing a glass of red wine between her hands. Harry wondered how a woman who had no physical training, no weapons and no spark could worry him so much. He stopped rubbing the bloodstain and looked towards her waiting for her to start shouting or throwing things.

"Thank you"

The words caught the Paladin of kilter. His eyes narrowed questioningly at his aunt waiting for the woman to explain what she meant.

"Those boys that threatened you today usually pick on Dudley. You see he was never big or strong enough to play with them so they started to bully him, Vernon chooses to ignore it, it's mostly the reason he wants to send him to Smelting's. He believes it will toughen him up." She stopped looking at harry and stood. Fixing her gaze on the mantelpiece she picked up a photograph of Dudley as a small child. It seemed that it was taken at some kind of Amusement park when Dudley was still a small child. Running her thumb across the face in the frame she continued. "Dudley is my only child and I don't want to see him hurt."

Turning to him, her face crumbled into tears. Harry made to stand but she waved him back down. Moving back to the settee she collapsed onto it, draining her glass and put it on the floor. Looking towards harry she passed him the photo frame.

"He was our miracle child. The doctors had told me it would be impossible for me to have children as I had a defect since birth, but it turns out they were wrong, Dudley is my darling baby and I would do anything for him. So thank you harry for what you did." She stood and turned to leave. But Harry's voice stopped her.

"So that's the reason you left me at the church. Not because you didn't love me as a nephew but because you couldn't think how to raise another child as well as your own." This time it was Harry's turn to stand. "In some ways I should thank you, if you hadn't left me on that step I would have probably raised as some kind of sub-human by Vernon and yourself because of my spark. But don't expect me to forgive you for leaving a one year-old on the steps of a church in the middle of the night in autumn." Harry started to leave the room but left a few parting words.

"I didn't break that boy's nose for your son. I broke it to teach him not to mess with me again."

28th July 1991 06:23 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

Saturday had passed without incident, once the televisions had been returned and now Sunday had come calling. Harry sat on his bed feeding the end of the tie through the loop and pulling it tight. Moving to his feet harry pulled the suit jacket on and smoothed the creases out of the arms. Next he slipped the Oxfords onto his feet and tied the laces.

Now that he was dressed Harry could start hiding his weapons. First was the bayonet, placed under the bottom draw of the closet, next the handgun in the same place. The buckle dagger was clipped into place, his fingers checking the release catch to make sure he could pop it out at a moment's notice. Now ready he left the room.

//////////

Petunia had woken early on the Sunday as she always did; tea was so much sweeter when she had the time to enjoy it. Sitting in front of the returned television she thought back over the last few days at what had happened. Harry's arrival had changed her husband, it wasn't just the beating he had treated him to but his presence that seemed to change the man. She had noticed a similar affect on her son, his demeanour was one of a more normal child, not that she thought her Dudley was unbalanced but had been more level these past few days than he had been in years.

She heard footsteps on the stairs. Unusual for a Sunday morning as it was Vernon's day off and Dudley liked to wait until the better cartoons came on the television. Turning she saw harry making his way towards the kitchen. The fact he was in a suit reminded the housewife that he would be going to church. And now that the one in Little Whinging had been closed due to the police investigation he would have to catch a bus to the next town to find another catholic church. Watching the boy prepare his breakfast it was easy to forget that the boy had been trained to slay monsters.

Smiling to herself she moved to the kitchen and up behind harry.

07:30 CET Section Thirteen Headquarters, The Vatican, Rome

Enrico Maxwell stood beside the cardboard box holding the smashed derringer in his gloved hand. At his side was Father Alexander, holding the limp hand of Father Jeremy tightly, trying to ignore the clothes the basted Anglicans had dressed him in. They had dressed him in a protestant cassock and replaced his silver crucifix with a wooden cross. It was a slur against his good memory. Earlier in the day all the operatives that were in Rome and the nearby countryside had attended a service for the man, filing into the underground room they had paid their respects and left, leaving Alexander and Enrico to take care of the arrangements. As he had committed suicide they were not allowed to bury him, so here in the secret corner of the Vatican it was left to the man's oldest friend and his protégé to cremate him. Looking to Anderson Enrico waited for the man to finish.

//////////

Father Anderson prided himself on being the strongest paladin the Vatican had, the fastest, the most celebrated in over two-hundred years. But every time an operative died he felt the pain of losing part of the huge family that was Section Thirteen. He was eighty years old and had looked thirty seven for the last forty three years, in that time he had seen tens of people join section thirteen through the huge iron doors in there lobby and leave through the huge cremation oven beside him. Every time he closed the huge metal door he hurt, he became friends with every person that joined the organisation and was always there to welcome them through the iron doors, and he even visited them when he had the time if they had been promoted out of the group. To the monsters of the world he was the fearsome Bayonet Anderson, greatest monster slayer since Van Helsing, to the family of Section Thirteen he was the crazy uncle who took the time to talk with you if he was in town. And here he was again with another man who had come through those iron doors and met the fate of so many before him.

Slowly reaching out he pulled the cross off its chain and placed it in the pocket of his leather trench coat he wore over his cassock. With one last squeeze of the corpse's hand he laid it back in the box, next he reached into the coat and pulled out a small velvet bag. The blood red fabric was tied at the top with straw and the contents clinked together. Closing the lid of the overly large cardboard box he turned to his companion.

"_I think that he would want you to do it._" Anderson said his Italian echoing around the empty room.

Moving forward Enrico pushed the box into the cremation oven, he stood back and looked to the controls while Anderson closed the door. Enrico cleared his throat and started the pilot light. Taking one through the soot smeared window at the box he turned the handle on the gas pipe and watched as the box was consumed by flames. Turning away Maxwell walked away from the oven towards the exit, his eyes flicking to the man still standing by the oven, but he did not stop for he had an appointment that he couldn't miss.

10:00 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

Harry sat watching the ticking clock on the mantelpiece thinking about the morning so far. It had been unusual in some respects, such as is aunt appearing behind him while he was making a cup of tea and fondly rubbing his hair. It had been a surprise, especially after the rather heated discussion on Friday night. After that he had caught a bus to Greater Whinging to the nearest Catholic Church in the hope that after Mass that the Father would be a member of Section Thirteen. However it seems that he was out of luck as the man reacted to none of the authorised code words, in fact the priest seemed to leave with the impression that harry seemed to have an unusual obsession with silver roman coins and the song 'Breaking The Law'. After returning home to find the house empty Harry had decided to wait in the living room for the meeting that must be coming. Harry had guessed that today would be the day that someone would arrive to introduce him to the wizarding world. As such he had prepared himself, his buckle knife was in place as was the pistol on his back in its specially crafted leather holster, it's length meant the boy could not bend at the waist but it was perfectly hidden under his black jacket. He had an extra clip in his right hand pocket, a wad of English currency in his left and a pad and pen on an inside pocket encase he needed to make notes.

Vigilantly he sat and waited watching the seconds tick away.

*TICK*

*TICK*

*TICK*

*TI-* *DING-DONG*

Harry refocused on the surrounding world as the noise of the doorbell cut through the quite. Harry stood and smoothed out the creases in his suit. Checked the pistol was well and truly hidden and made towards the door. Plans filled his mind to combat whoever was behind the door.

A/N

I'm very sorry for the long wait but my mum was diagnosed with cancer and had to have an operation. So I've been looking after her and this had to go on the back-burner. So thanks to all the people who gave good feed back and I'll try to write more soon. But don't forget to check out the new pole I've put up or send me some questions.

So until next time

Fare Thee Well


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

////////// - P.O.V. change

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 11: The Boss

13:10 CET The Papal Office, The Vatican, Rome

The Pope massaged the growing headache in his temples as he looked to the teenager in front of him. The plan he was suggesting was to take a simple reconnaissance mission in a nuclear capable country and turn it into an all out war. He looked into Maxwell's hardened gaze with pity. This boy thought that the best way to counter violence was with violence, a policy that would to more of the same. A never-ending circle of destruction that would only end with the destruction of one of the combatants.

"No my son, I can't sanction this." He placed his hands on the desk in front of him. The ring of the fisherman weighing heavily on his old hands. The teen priest jumped to the defence of his plan.

"But your Holiness, you don't seem to understand the bigger picture. They actively taunted us with the death of Father Jacob. If we don't retaliate they will hold this over us, we need to strike hard and fast at there overseas informants. Blind them like they tried to do with us."

It was sickening to see the young mans conviction. It was one thing to terminate a monster such as a vampire, wizard or ghoul. But to take a human life was a serious thing, even if they were a heathen. It hollowed a man out and made them the worst kind of a monster. One with a soul

He thought back to the Vatican's pet wizard. At times he thought it was a bad idea having such a creature in Section Thirteen. But sometimes you needed an edge, H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. had there vampire, the Millennium Group had there werewolf and apparently the KGB had some form of wraith, at least Anderson's protégé was sane. The child had worked for his place as a priest, maybe he was the redemption for all those lost souls.

He had time to think of these things later. First he must deal with the teenager before him.

"I think that your anger at loosing your mentor is too fresh. Your reason is flawed and your plan is insane and violent. Until such time as you are fit to return to your covert operations. I think you should go to our orphanage in southern France. Take some time to find piece with your self and the world, your friends Heinkel and Yumie should go with you." Standing up the Pope gestured towards the door before continuing. "Go to your room and pack, I'll send somebody with instructions."

As the door closed behind the priest the Pope turned to the window and opened a draw to withdraw a peppermint sweet. Popping it into his mouth he looked out over Vatican City.

Walking back to his desk he picked up the phone and dialled the number for the Section Thirteen control room.

A/N

This chapter is just a little filler until I get 100 votes on the "Who is Harry's First Link To The Wizarding World" question.

From the next chapter all chapters will be 5000 words or more.

So until the votes are done.

Fare Thee Well.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

/ - P.O.V. change

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 12: Annoying Little Things

10:01 GMT No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry

Harry looked at the diminutive gentleman before him, the orange smoking jacket, the purple flairs and lime green bow tie. Thank The Father, Son and Holy Ghost that his Uncle hadn't opened the door or the tiny man might have had a very different reception. Harry decided to take the initiative.

"May I help you sir" Harry politely said, disguising his voice with the perfectly practiced local accent.

An impossibly wide grin seemed to split the small mans head almost in two. Harry took note of the slightly pointed teeth and squat height. It reminded him of a small creature that he and Anderson had seen at a creature settlement skulking around the larger creatures. Ignoring the passing memory he refocused on the small creature.

"Mr Potter I believe it is more likely that I am able to help you." The creature stuck out a tiny hand. "I am Professor Flitwick, I am here from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we sent you a letter to which we had no response. We were then informed that you would be living in a muggle household, as such I have been sent by the headmaster to see if you had a response." The small thing was bouncing on its heels obviously expecting admittance. Harry decided the best thing to do was to move it away from the property.

"Professor, my family are quite problematic if disturbed during the day, if you will give me a minute and I shall be with you." Harry closed the door over before making his way upstairs.

Entering his room harry started to riffle through the case that held the vials of blood passing over Andersons and the other combat types he pulled out a glass tube from the section marked 'Infiltration'. Unbuttoning the front of his shirt with one hand harry pulled the rubber cork from the bottle with his teeth. Dipping a little finger into the bottle he coated it with a blob of blood before rubbing it into the indented scar on his chest. The change was almost immediate, a prickling pain swept across his flesh and a deep ache crushed in on his organs and bones. Every single pain receptor in his nervous system had started functioning again sending signals that hadn't been felt in weeks, muscles that had been ready to move at a split second relaxed and started to recover from the tension. When this feeling passed another started, everything became brighter more noticeable, things that would normally pass unnoticed grabbed for his attention everything was memorised and stored away.

The whole process took less than a minute and harry bolted from the room, hands pushing buttons through holes. As he reached the front door he stopped to make sure that all his weapons were covered before opening it.

/

Professor Filius Flitwick smiled at the young man who had just returned but his eyes took note of everything the boy did. Filius had in his younger days been an expert dueller, two times he had been European Grandmaster and had placed second on the world stage once. As such he took note of how the boy had answered the door. The wood used to shield most of his body, arms tensed ready for action, legs locked to provide pushing stability. It was obvious that the boy had had some form of muggle defence training, he already had the muscle memory necessary for a great dueller, Filius just hoped his mind was as sharp that would only leave work on his spells. This was obviously one of the things Albus had told him to look out for when he called him to his office.

9:30 GMT Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

Filius listened carefully while the headmaster explained how he had placed young harry at his aunts, the tiny professor was less then enamoured with the idea as a whole, since her fourth year Lilly had rarely mentioned her sister in a positive light. However as twinkly old man explained the nature of Lilly's sacrifice and the blood protection that came with it he relented to Albus's wisdom in the matter. Blood wards fell outside charms and were more along the lines of soul magic, as such his knowledge of them was limited that did not sit well with the man who was supposed to be head of the smartest house in the school.

"Filius there is something else." Albus said in a serious tone. "I need you to tell me everything you find out about Mr Potter. Feel free to ask as many probing questions as you like but above all be subtle, this is why I chose you to Mr Potter's magical liaison."

Flitwicks tiny face split into a grin. "So it's not for my sparkling personality and good looks then."

"But of course Filius. Who else could send that has half the rugged charm you do." Albus's eyes sparkled behind his spectacles. "But I'm sure Severus would love the chance to play the smiling and kindly wizard at the door."

Filius's smile became a little forced at this point. He couldn't imagine what would happen to the poor child if Snape was the first one to get his claws into him. His train of thought was broken however by the return of the Headmasters serious face.

"There is something else." The old man said lacing his fingers together. "Once I placed Harry at the house he disappeared. I questioned his relatives but they had left him at a church. Upon my arrival there I found the priest had left taking Harry with him. I searched but he had disappeared."

Filius looked concerned. "So you wish me to find out were he has been for the past ten years. But what I want to know is how you found out that he had returned to his aunts."

"Simple his Hogwarts letter. I waited until the quill wrote out all the letters for the year and simply took a look at the address on Harry's. It was a shock to find out he was back at Number Four." Filius took a look at the headmasters jolly old face. It seemed sincere but you didn't get to his level of power without being a good actor.

Standing the little professor took his leave from the old man and walked out of the office on his way to see a small child about something life-changing.

/

10:07 GMT The Play Park, Drive End, Little Whinging, Surry

Harry sat on the bench next to the professor at Drive end. It was apparent to harry that the creature was highly skilled in combat from the way he held himself. At the same time the little thing was out of practice, the belly and loose movements were a testament to that.

The little being gave a small talk on what magic was and what it was able to do. It was interesting and committed to his now enhanced memory, information that could help in a war against the wizarding world was vital.

Next the creature reached into his cloak and pulled out a six inch stick. Harry's whole body tensed as the little man made a complex motion with it. He listened as it told him how it had placed a muggle repelling charm that would keep non-magicals from noticing them. Taking it at its word he watched as it used it's spark to lift a series of rocks, commenting that this would be one of the first spells he would learn upon attending the school.

Moving on from the rocks the professor demonstrated something called transfiguration, using the wand in a complex motion with an accompanying string of Latin. A stick that had been a short distance away turned into a golden sword sticking out of the ground. Grass changed colour, birds appeared from nowhere, trees bent into interesting shapes and all the while harry watched and memorized.

/

Flitwick was becoming more and more unsettled with young Harry as their time together rolled on. What should have been a meeting of delight and wonder filled with magic and a child's happy wonderment was starting to become an unsettling experience. The young lad was just sitting watching all of this happen in silence, his eyes drinking in everything he was doing. It seemed like the boy had seen things like this happen before but that was impossible for someone living in a muggle household. Filius put his wand away and slowly levered himself off the bench and onto the grass.

"Well Mr Potter I do believe its time to shop for your school supplies. If you would follow me will shall take the bus." The scarred child followed the small man to the road. As they arrive he sent a small pulse of magic out and waited for the Knight Bus. It shouldn't take too long as the bus would be summoned by the pulse of magic. As he turned back to the boy he noticed a look of panic on his features.

/

Harry tried to control the rush of panic that he felt as a massive being of magic came rushing towards him. The small thing had reached out into the road and sent out a pulse of spark and had somehow summoned this creature that was speeding towards them. As his hand instinctively reached behind his back there was an almighty-

*BANG*

Confusion was the only thing that stayed Harry's hand. The beast he had been expecting was certainly the correct colour being bright purple, however there seemed to be a distinct lack of teeth, claws and other nasty bits and bobs. His eyes were drawn to the gold lettering on its side.

'The Knight Bus'

This had to be a joke.

The spark alone pointed towards a creature of the size of a bus. But so much raw energy to be expended on a method of transport was simply ludicrous. Harry withdrew his hand before the oddly clothed creature could see were it was going. However it seemed to be sporting that horrible grin again.

"I love seeing that look on new student's faces when I introduce them to the bus."

Harry tried to give an exciting smile but the little thing must have seen through it.

"Now-now Mr Potter. Its just a bus. There is absolutely nothing to worry about, do you think I would compromise a prospective students safety."

Oh how harry just wanted to pull out his gun and end the smug teacher. his mind started to play the scenario out.

'*Click* goes the hammer.'

'*Crack* as it slams into the firing pin.'

'The first feeling of recoil.'

"Mr Potter?"

'The muzzle flash'

'*CRACK*'

'The slide pulling back'

"Mr Potter!"

'The next round chambering.'

'The tiny silver speck speeding towards the little beast.'

'Watching the shock as it-

"MR POTTER!"

Harry snapped out of his reverie and examined his memories of the last few moments. It seemed that while he had been day-dreaming the technicolor teacher had paid for there tickets with some unknown form of money. He sighed and followed the professor onto the purple monstrosity. One of the problems with boosted brain functions was that if you got distracted it started to get worse as you focused more on that than on what you should be paying attention to. It didn't mean that your brain didn't record what was going on outside the fantasy, it just meant you were in a lot of trouble if something decide to attack. It took a substantial form of input to however to break it, say a flash, push or loud sound. Even a terrible taste or smell could be enough.

"Mr Potter if you are prone to this sought of laissez-faire attitude I politely inform you that I nor most of the staff will not stand for it during lessons." The creature had a chagrined look upon its face. "I must warn you that our Potions Master will take it as the worst kind of offense if you do not have your total concentration on what you are doing, now let me tell you that Professor Snape is not a man you wish to antagonize."

Harry was about to respond when he saw the layout of the bus. Deckchairs, armchairs, stools, sofas, benches, even a Chaise longue. This seemed to be the norm as the professor quickly settled himself into a velvet armchair, harry followed by seating himself on a bench that was positioned next to it.

"I will be more focused in lesson sir but if you could kindly tell me were we are going sir."

Once more the grin surfaced. "Why Mr Potter, the only place to shop in magical England. Diagon Alley." He gripped the arms of the chair and seemed to ready himself. Harry also tensed in response not knowing what to expect.

"Now would be a very good time to hold on Mr Potter."

*BANG*

All that was left at drive end now was the wind blowing the trees and a patch of oddly shaded grass.

A/N

Sorry this chapter isn't as long as I promised as I have been desperately helping my mum. She's now got to have Chemo therapy and Radio therapy as its been upgraded to G3. So I'm going to stick with smaller/faster chapters for now. I'm also looking for a Beta and someone to bounce ideas off. Please review and check within a couple of days to see a new vote on my author page.

So until next time, thank you.

And

Fare thee well


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

/ - P.O.V. change

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 13: Shock

10:35 GMT The Leaky Cauldron, Haywroth Street, London

The sun lit up the corner of the street in central London where a little pub stood. It's odd shape and morbid colour seemed to suggest that it would be the perfect place to hold a Wake or the kind of parties that lean towards people of a certain kind of sexual persuasion.

*BANG*

The purple and gold bus let its shaken passengers off all except the small black haired boy that had to be carried from the bus by a distraught conductor.

"I don't understand it." He babbled. "That's never happened to anyone before."

"I must confess that is an unusual reaction to simple transportation magic." Flitwick had followed the larger man off the bus and helped him lay Harry on his side on the pavement.

The movement of 'The Knight Bus' is essentially that of a normal bus. That is until the bus needs to move great distances at which point it disapparates. The most of huge magical force the bus holds is momentarily used to move the bus from its starting point to its finishing point. However even more is used to stop the usual effects of apparition from affecting its passengers this causes a huge magical pressure in the air. Now harry hadn't known this when he stepped onto the bus, but due to his newly enhanced cognitive faculties he had taken note of all the effects and would later pick apart the mechanics of the purple behemoth.

That was when he recovered from the seizure.

The two bulks of magic crushing against had caused harry's holy spark to have a very profound reaction. The holy spark had gone into shock and to protect itself from the foreign magic it had separated its connection with the boy. The sudden lack of magic had been terribly painful and had almost killed the child; it was only due to the quick nature of the travel spell that he had not suffered a fatal cardiac-arrest.

"Let's get him inside 'The Cauldron' before some muggle notices us." The conductor said lifting the limp body of the boy. Flitwick put a hand out to stop him.

"One moment. The boy needs a change of face." The tiny man lifted the glasses off Harrys face before pocketing them. With a wave of his wand the boys black hair turned a dirty blond and lengthened. Turning back to the conductor he snapped. "I trust I can count on your discretion in this matter."

After a swift nod from the taller man they entered the pub. They quickly made their way past the tables and towards the bar. Tom saw them coming and started to towards the bottles at the back of the bar.

"No thank you Tom we just need a room to put this poor lad down in for a while."

Tom turned to see the charms professor standing on one of the bar stools.

"Ah. Problems with a new student?" Tom smiled and passed the tiny man a key. "It's the second room on the right. Just let me know when you're done with it."

Smiling, professor Flitwick took the key and left with the conductor upstairs.

12:01 GMT The Leaky Cauldron, Haywroth Street, London

Harry opened his eyes to see the flaking plaster of the ceiling. His head went through a quick checklist.

The room was covered in plaster so not designed for prisoners.

The surface he was lying on was elevated and not too uncomfortable. Most likely a bed from some kind of establishment rather than someone's home.

The discomfort in his back were his holster was. This meant no one had removed his weapon. It was possible they had placed him on the bed without finding it. Making a quick note to remove the handgun before he was measured for his robe, the likelihood a professional would miss it were almost none.

Breaking off his train of thought he propped himself up on his elbows to look around the room. There was little furnishing in the room bar a dresser in the far corner with a mirror and a bed side table holding a small pile of books


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"Example" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"Example" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

/ - P.O.V. change

Chapter 14: When people jump to assumptions

12:13 GMT The Leaky Cauldron, Haywroth Street, London

Harry looked down from the balcony at the bar. Black seemed to be the rooms major theme with wood being the second. The long tables had men and women in a varying range of clothes seated at them both eating and drinking. Some wore human clothing like any person in the street, some wore odd mixes of human clothing in some rather alarming colours. The last group were by far in the majority, long black robes and tall conical hats with oversized brims, the stereotypical view of a foul purveyor of magic.

The Flitwick creature was talking to a deformed man at the bar that seemed to be polishing a glass. Harry pushed away from the rail and moved towards the stairs, frowning at the thought of a teacher drinking while with a student.

When he had crossed the room towards the professor he reached up and tapped the man on the bar-stool. It took the thing a moment to swivel around and face him.

"Harry its good to see you awake" he said with another of his face splitting grins. "I was very worried about that episode you had. You should have warned me that you suffer from seizures. I would have contacted a healer for a suppressing potion, as it stands I now have one that you can take." The little man stood and moved towards one of the booths in the corner were the barman was laying the table.

Sitting on one side of the table harry looked across to the thing sitting on the other side. His eyes swiftly took note that the table had been laid for an extra two people. Not immediately responding to this new information he decided to question the wee professor about healers and the nature of the suppressing potion. The academic handed him a vial no bigger than his thumb, inside was a blue liquid with the consistency of syrup, a raised eyebrow from the professor and harry placed it on an inside pocket of his little black jacket. As he did Flitwick turned towards an approaching person and waved. Glancing over he saw a tall stern looking woman in a witch's hat and deep green robes, walking behind her was a child his age reading a book, this must be another teacher escorting a pupil.

/

Hermione Granger was enthralled in her book, eyes skimming the pages faster than most adults, peripheral vision locked on the back of Professor McGonagall's robes. Only when they came to a stop did she look up into the green eyes of the boy at the table. They made her pause, they looked through her

/

Harry caught the eyes of the girl and started to weigh her up, he started to make a list to get a basic idea of her personality, see if she was an immediate threat.

Age: Most likely the same as him but from development almost a year older.

Height: Taller than him but a rounding of the shoulders brought her down to his level, possible introvert, more likely from an excessive amount of reading.

Hair: Frizzy but combed, suggesting she cares what others think of her and tried to make a good impression.

Eyes: Slightly bloodshot, bags below them, another sign pointing towards too much late night reading.

Skin: Tanned on the hands to the wrists, face to the neck the same except for around the eyes where it was slightly paler, skin also looked dried out but right hand had a slight freeze burn. Probably a very recent family skiing holiday.

Clothes: Neutral colours and good brands, comfortable, most likely bought by a family member.

Shoes: Trainers, barely worn, not used for running just comfort when walking.

Smell: A brand of soap smelling faintly of lavender but mostly masked by very high quality dental care chemicals.

Conclusions: Daughter of professional parents, indications suggest dentists. Have little time for there daughter as she spends most of her time with books, they also have a reason to trust the teacher as they didn't come with her. Probably has had trouble making friends as she has gone out of her way to look her best so as to make a good first impression.

Harry's eyes turned from her to the tall woman in front of her. Preparing to make another mental list.

/

As she looked down on the Boy-Who-Lived she saw his eyes flick from the girl she was escorting to her eyes. Behind those lenses eyes just like Lily's stared through her.

/

The disappointment she felt as those gems turned from her to Professor McGonagall. Those eyes had drawn her in, like they had a magic of there own, silently absorbing everything about her. She shivered, maybe this boy could be the friend she was looking for?

/

12:45 GMT The Leaky Cauldron, Haywroth Street, London

Harry was irate to say the least. The second that damn girl had heard his name she had been all over him like tar. It was sickening to see such blatant hero worship for something that he had never really had a choice in, that's not to say it wasn't useful, Father Potter now had a good idea of what to expect from most of the wizarding world in relation to there actions towards him.

She wasn't the only annoying one. The professor called McGonagall had spent the entire meal ignoring her charge and spent it telling harry everything about his mother and father. It seemed that not only had they both been in her house but James had been a record breaking seeker for the school, added to that it seemed he had been one of her best students in transfiguration, the subject she taught at the school. It had been Flitwick who had told him that his mother had been the smartest witch of her generation and that her scores were still the highest in the school for the last centaury. It was as though she was trying to force the idea of being in her house on him.

Now he was standing in the alleyway behind the pub watching as the short thing jumped to try and touch his wand to a certain brick. He had already tryed to offer the man a boost but had been told graciously that it would not be good for his reputation if a current student saw him being lifted by the Boy-Who-Lived.

Finally wand met brick and the wall dissapeared from that point outwards.

It was time for recon.

Eyes open Father Harry James Potter steped into the belly of the beast.

A/N

This is just a little bit of filler as i'm already writing the next chapter. Please vote on the new question going up. I realy need a beta so if one could be sugested i would realy apreaciate it. feel free to point out mistakes and the like as this was written on a wordpad so no basic spellcheck.

Big shout out to Lophaetus Occipitalis and his briliant idea


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"**Example**" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"_Example_" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

/ - P.O.V. change

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 14:

14:00 GMT Gringotts, Diagon Alley, London

*SMACK*

Harry's head jerked to the right as the little creature threw another punch. Its twisted features warped into a grin as it shook the pain out of its fist. Returning to its chair harry spat the blood from his mouth onto the stone floor, the frothy mix slowly ran towards the drain in the floor. Lifting his face the priest stared at the goblin on the opposite chair, the iron handcuffs on his wrists had runes designed to drain his spark, the runes hadn't been designed for his kind of magic.

"Now when did you kill the goblin. Tell us wizard because we can do this for a long time." Harry looked towards the goblin leaning against the wall.

"Did you cut him down with a spell." The one in the chair picked up his new wand off of the table next to him.

"Put a bullet through his head." The one on the wall drew 'Serenity' from its belt.

"Slit his throat" The one in the chair fingered the silver belt knife.

"Stab him through the heart." The one at the wall continued.

"Tell us everything or we will have you here until the seas dry and the mountains become dust." The one in the chair finished.

Harry head rolled back and tried to remember how this had happened to him.

/

Shops left and right with thousands of things on sale, some unbelievably dark, some surprisingly light.

But everywhere there was taint. The feel of the twisted spark itched across his skin. It was like needles pressing into his flesh without piercing it, he tried scratching but it wasn't helping, needles that would only leave once he got away from all these heathens.

Listening with one ear he heard the professor explain that they would visit the bank last, there harry would repay him for the purchases that they would continue to make. But first it would be robes, followed by wand and lastly a pet. Harry didn't understand the emphasis the pest was putting on a creature. The letter merely stated that he could choose to bring an owl, cat or toad. Not that he had to. However something was pressing on his newly organised mind.

Robes.

Robes that were made to measure.

He needed to get rid of the professor long enough to remove the gun holster or whoever measured him would notice it. From what he had perceived of the small man so far it would be a challenge to be left alone long enough to remove it and place it in the trunk. The man was keeping far to close an eye on him for his comfort, it was akin to send a spy to catch a spy. Only that it was someone attempting to spy on a Vatican operative. It seemed more like sending the spy to catch a shadow.

He needed more time to think.

"Professor. I have a question." A perfect ring of hesitation to the question gave the fake air of nervousness he expected a new student would feel under the circumstances.

"Certainly Harry." Squeaked the professor. "Ask away, you must have a great deal of questions."

"Would we be able to buy a wand first sir. Only it's just…"

"Not a problem Harry" the face on the man crinkled into a smile. "I understand perfectly that a young man such as yourself would want to experience magic as soon as possible. However I must warn you not to just wave your wand around muttering nonsense. There is a tragic tale of a young man who made his feet swap places because of some badly chosen words. The Medi-Witch was unable to do anything for him and he had to spend the rest of his life unable to play sports properly."

Harry made a note to research how much of an impact on a spell the words spoken actually had. He silently followed the professor to one of the shops on the side of the street. His eyes picked out the golden lettering.

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

Dust seemed to hang in the air of the shop as they stepped inside. In the far distance of the shop a bell rang. A bit too far in the distance to be comfortable, like the shop was longer than it conceivably should be. Reaching the counter Harry could feel the Spark coming from the thousands of boxes that sat on the shelf's. These sparks however seemed dormant, like they had the potential to leap from there boxes and fill the room with their tainted gift, but they lacked something to trigger that initial burst of life. It was if they were in a coma waiting for a person to pick them up and wake them.

"Ah admiring my shop I see." Came a silky voice from behind Harrys ear. A small smirk rolled over Harrys face as he had heard the man trying to sneak up on him easily enough.

"Yes Mister Ollivander, its quite astonishing how much dust there is, it is quite possibly the finest collection of dust I have ever seen." The old man laughed and moved to behind the counter.

"So Mister Potter the day has come that you arrive in my shop. I remember the day I sold your parents there wands. Your father mahogany, eleven inches, excellent for transfiguration really quite pliable. And then there was your mothers ten and quarter inches, swishy, some of the nicest Willow I've worked with truly an excellent wand for charms." As the man started to ramble on about wands of the past Harrys eyes seemed to be pulled to a box inches behind the man's head.

"Sorry to interrupt you Mr Ollivander but could you tell me about the wand in that box." Harry pointed to the purple box.

"Ah an interesting wand that one. Here give it a try." Pulling the box down he passed it to the boy to open.

Harry tensed as he griped the purple box and a shiver went along his arm. Not at all like the tainted spark of these creatures, it was soothingly pure, slowly he lifted the lid.

A/N Just a short chapter to get me back into the swing of writing.

Now should the wand be the normal one or a new one.


End file.
